The First Kryptonian in Marvel

General (POV)

The Triskelion

The S.H.I.E.L.D. Rapid Response Special Unit was gearing up.

"We've received the signal. John, you and your team are a go," came the voice of Nick Fury.

"Understood, Director," John replied, saluting crisply.

He turned to his squad, his voice firm but inspiring. "Check your gear. Prepare for takeoff."

"Yes, sir!" The soldiers' eyes shone with admiration. To them, Captain Jonathan Walkers wasn't just a leader; he was a living legend—a shield who always led them to victory.

Despite his calm exterior, John's mind raced. "This isn't just a standard operation. We're dealing with vampiric evolutions here. If the intel is right, this will be one hell of a fight. Let's hope our weapons are up to the task."

"Captain, incoming comms from the Director."

John grabbed the headset. "Walker here."

"Blade is a key part of the ritual. If we can extract him, it'll tip the scales in our favor," Nick said.

"And you're telling me this now?"

"I only just got the intel myself," he explained.

...

Meanwhile, at the Temple of Eternal Night...

Cheers erupted through the Temple of Eternal Night, echoing off the ancient stone walls. At the center of the celebration stood the newly christened "La Magra" – Deacon Frost, radiating the unmistakable aura of someone who had just received a monumental power upgrade."My bloodthirsty brethren!" he boomed, addressing the throng of vampires below. "The ancient rituals I unearthed have proven successful! Proof positive that those stuck-up purebloods not only turned their backs on our vampiric hunger and ferocity but also forgot the glorious legacy of our ancestors! Now, as the La Magra, I shall guide you to restore the true glory of the vampire race! We are the rightful rulers of the night, the apex predators! Humans will learn their place once more – on the menu!"

"Food! Food! Food!" the vampires roared in response, their bloodlust palpable.

"Behold, the power bestowed upon the La Magra!" Frost bellowed, leaping into the air like a deranged gymnast. With a mighty punch, he shattered the temple ceiling, raining debris down below. The stone sarcophagus that had been Blade's prison came crashing down in a shower of dust. Frost, with inhuman strength, ripped the lid off and tossed the restraints aside like yesterday's newspaper. Finally, he flung a handful of vials at Blade, a cruel smirk twisting his features.

Blade, weak from his ordeal, stumbled as the vials clattered around him. He snatched one up, his hands shaking, and managed to inject himself with the serum. Two agonizing minutes ticked by as the serum worked its magic. Slowly, strength seeped back into his muscles, and the formidable Daywalker rose to his feet, a predator reborn.

"You've just signed your own death warrant, Frost," Blade growled, his voice a gravelly threat.

Frost sneered, his blood-red eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure. He gestured towards Blade with a theatrical flourish. "Come then, Daywalker. Let's settle this once and for all!"

Blade didn't waste words. With a feral roar, he charged, launching himself at Frost with a straight punch.

Frost scoffed, catching Blade's feeble punch as if swatting a fly. "You don't even have the strength to hit properly, and you call yourself a vampire hunter? Pathetic," he sneered, following it up with a brutal kick that sent Blade slamming into a pillar. The Daywalker fell to the ground, groaning in pain. Sure, the serum had gotten him mobile again, but the blood loss had left him at less than sixty percent of his full strength—way below his usual ass-kicking capacity.

Blade hauled himself up, a grimace etched on his face. He lunged at Frost again, and they were locked in a brutal ballet of fangs and fury. This time, Blade fought smarter, not harder. He weaved around Frost like a phantom, his eyes constantly flicking between his silver blade and the shifting sky outside the temple – a reminder of the dwindling sunlight, his only real ally.

Frost saw an opening and lashed out with another kick, but Blade used the momentum to launch himself back, rolling past his fallen blade. He snatched it up, the cold metal a familiar comfort in his hand. Now on the offensive, Blade unleashed a flurry of attacks, leaving a trail of shiny new cuts on Frost's smug face. Problem was, the self-proclaimed La Magra didn't even flinch. These were mere scratches, healing over faster than Blade could blink. He was basically fighting a regenerative punching bag.

As the fight dragged on, Blade's strength waned. He wasn't at his best, and it was starting to show. Frost capitalized on this, seizing Blade's silver blade in his bare hand. Pain flared in Frost's palm as the silver bit deep, but he held on. It was a bizarre tug-of-war, Blade straining to pull his weapon free, Frost using Blade's own momentum to yank him closer. Then, with a sickening crunch, Frost slammed his fist into Blade's cheek. The impact sent Blade flying into the wall, the air whooshing out of his lungs. He collapsed to the ground, vision blurring, the fight slipping from his grasp.

Seeing Blade defeated, the bloodthirsty vamps present went batshit crazy, chanting Frost's new nickname like a bunch of brainwashed zombies: "La Magra! La Magra! La Magra!" Then came the even more messed-up cheers: "Rip him to shreds! Yank his heart out! Kill the fucker!"

Frost, lapping up the adoration like a cat with a bowl of cream, tossed Blade's silver blade aside like yesterday's garbage. He stalked towards the barely conscious Daywalker, a nasty grin plastered on his face. Tearing out Blade's heart himself – that would be the ultimate trophy.

Blade, battered and broken, watched Frost approach. He saw a sliver of sunlight peeking through the doorway – a glimmer of hope, a reminder of his one true weapon. Digging deep for any reserves of strength he might have left, Blade lunged in the other direction, slamming himself at the cracked wall from his earlier fight.

With a loud 'Bang,' Blade smashed through the weakened wall, tumbling onto the rough ground outside the temple. He winced, pain shooting through him, but forced himself to look back. There, bathed in the golden light of dawn, was a gaping hole. Sunlight streamed into the temple, a death ray for the assembled vampires.

Hearing cries of agony from the hole, a faint smile tugged at Blade's lips. A faint smile tugged at Blade's lips. This was it. This was the moment he had waited for through the prolonged struggle with Frost. He'd used Frost's arrogance against him, turning his own temple into a vampire barbecue.

But then, as abruptly as they started, the screams died down. Silence descended on the temple, broken only by the chirping of a nearby bird. Blade squinted, worry replacing his fleeting sense of triumph. Through the hole, he saw Frost's figure standing in the sunlight, a twisted smile on his face. The light that should have been burning him to a crisp seemed… harmless. What the actual hell? Blade's smile turned bitter.

Blade truly felt despair this time. Watching Frost strut around in the sunlight, completely unscathed, was enough to make him want to chuck the towel. Not only was he getting his ass handed to him, but his two biggest weapons - silver and sunlight - were apparently duds now. 

Blade lay there, the morning sun a faint warmth on his skin, yet an icy dread gripping his insides.

Frost, meanwhile, took a flying leap out of the hole, landing with a flourish and defiantly flipping off the sun with both middle fingers. After venting what seemed like years of pent-up frustration towards the giant glowing orb, he swaggered back to Blade.

"Daywalker? Pfft. You're nothing special now! Wouldn't you say? As the La Magra, sunshine doesn't bother me a bit!" Frost cackled, crouching beside Blade and tracing patterns on his chest with a razor-sharp nail. "Originally, I originally planned to kill you. But now, a much more entertaining option has risen from the ashes, so to speak." A twisted grin spread across Frost's face. "I'll chop off your limbs, turn you into a permanent resident of this dusty temple, and then, when your hunger gets bad enough, I'll toss you a juicy human! How's that for a show, huh? Haha! I can't wait to see how you perform then, Daywalker."

Blade, fueled by a surge of defiance, tried to push himself up, but Frost slammed his boot down on Blade's chest, pinning him like a bug. The air whooshed out of Blade's lungs, and a strangled groan escaped his lips. He was trapped, at the mercy of a sadistic monster who reveled in his pain. Then he felt something hitting his head and his vision went dark.

"Pfft and this was the bane of so many of my brethren didn't even pose a challenge," Frost said, grabbing the unconscious Blade by his leg and dragging him back into the temple, but just then.

...

Earlier...

Kara, who had finally laid eyes on the Temple of Eternal Night, was less than impressed. "This place wasn't easy to find. Are these guys moles or what? Building a temple underground?" she remarked, her tone laced with disdain.

Illyana, ever dutiful and suppressing a smirk, avoided voicing her disagreement. "The architecture is stunning. Why would My Queen dislike it?" She couldn't help but think Kara looked regal even when irritated—a goddess fit to rule not just the Underworld but her heart.

"Are you ready?" Kara asked, turning toward her.

"Yes, My Queen," Illyana responded without hesitation, her gaze lingering a moment too long on Kara's body. Her mind betrayed her momentarily, imagining Kara in something more...revealing.

"Do you think you can take Frost?"

Illyana considered for a moment. "If he's as strong as you say he is, I'd say there's an 80% chance." Though she'd much rather take her chances at winning Kara's favor in a more intimate setting.

"Watch your timing. Don't go toe-to-toe with him, and you should be fine. Though silver and garlic have little effect on you, we don't know if you are fully immune. Neither do we know the effect ethylenediaminetetraacetic acid may have on your body, so don't let Blade's serum hit you either," Kara cautioned, her tone unusually sharp.

"Understood, My Queen," Illyana replied, though her thoughts briefly drifted. Even when scolding me, she's stunning.

Observing the scene from a concealed perch, Kara's lips curled into a smirk. "This ritual... it's an evolution ceremony, not the true summoning of La Magra, just the summoning of an Avatar. Those so-called purebloods? They're nothing but aging relics."

Illyana's lips twitched into a rare smile. "That should improve my odds, My Queen." Not that she'd ever admit Kara's confidence was a bigger motivator than any strategic advantage.

As the two women continued to observe the scene, Illyana remarked, "My Queen, Blade seems to be losing!"

"Yup, I am afraid so," Kara deadpanned.

"It's like you said, either your presence changes things, or maybe it is because of this being a different universe?"

"It's either the one or the other," Kara replied as they saw Blade breaking the wall and sunlight hitting Frost—having no effect whatsoever.

"Yup, definitely Daywalker now," Kara said.

"Use this instead of your rapier," Kara instructed firmly, handing over MorningStar. "Stabbing weapons won't do much against Frost. Remember what we practiced—channel your magical energy into MorningStar. Besides the ability to morph based on your intent, it adjusts its weight the more magic you pour into it. The heavier it gets for your opponent, the stronger and faster it strikes, but for you, the weight stays the same. That means you can accelerate your attacks or reinforce your defense without any extra effort. Use it wisely."

Illyana received the sword, her fingers brushing Kara's in the exchange, sending a small, shamefully pleasant thrill down her spine. "Thank you, My Queen. I won't disappoint you." She swung the katana experimentally, already fantasizing about what her reward might be after the battle—perhaps...the opportunity to see Kara in something breathtakingly delicate.

"Mind out of the gutter," Kara said sharply, catching Illyana's lingering stare as it drifted where it shouldn't.

Illyana smirked sheepishly. "Apologies, My Queen. Shall I enter the game, then?" She asked, watching Frost drag an unconscious Blade back into the temple. With her Queen nearby, fear wasn't an option.

"Sure, go ahead. I'll get Blade to safety," Kara said.

Illyana immediately jumped down, landing on the platform and locking eyes with her new nemesis. This was the man standing between her and a well-deserved sweet night with her Queen.

"Huh, and who might you be? Another elder from the vampire council?" Frost sneered, his voice dripping with disdain.

"Wouldn't you want to know," Illyana quipped, a playful smirk curling her lips. She gave MorningStar a swing, the blade slicing through the air in a blur. With a subtle shift in her magical energy, she drastically increased the weapon's weight mid-motion. The sudden displacement of air, amplified by MorningStar's accelerated speed, compressed into a razor-thin arc of wind that shot forward like a cutting blade.

The windslash carved through the space between them, its force rattling the platform as it tore past Frost with an audible whump of displaced air, leaving him unscathed. Her calling card was clear.

Frost frowned, his eyes narrowing. But arrogance quickly conquered his brief flicker of unease as he picked up on her scent. "You're that vampire who attacked my ballroom," he sneered.

"I don't talk to dead men," Illyana retorted, her rare taunt slicing as sharply as her blade.

"Well said." Frost lunged, his sword swinging in a deadly arc.

Illyana sidestepped effortlessly, MorningStar flashing as she countered. Her strike severed Frost's hand cleanly at the wrist. He roared, but before he could recover, she pivoted. With brutal precision, her blade cleaved through his midsection in a horizontal slash. His upper body toppled to the ground with a dull thud.

Illyana turned away, her movements fluid as she flicked MorningStar's edge clean and sheathed it. "Not so tough after all," she muttered under her breath.

But the sound of wet, slithering motion made her freeze. Frost's body didn't disintegrate as expected. Tendrils of blood snaked from his torso, pulling the severed halves back together. His hand regenerated in seconds, snapping back into place like a grotesque puzzle piece.

"He's not dead!" Kara called out sharply, her voice cutting through the rising tension, as she dropped the unconscious Blade in a corner.

Illyana didn't need to be told twice. Vaulting back, she extended her left hand, summoning a volley of Shadow Arrows. Dark magical projectiles materialized in the air before launching at Frost, each imbued with her fury. The arrows pierced his regenerating body, erupting in bursts of shadowy energy.

Frost chuckled, plucking at the dissipating shadows as the wounds healed almost instantly. "Impressive reflexes," he said mockingly, "but futile against me." Grabbing a sword from the platform, he advanced.

The chamber echoed with the clash of steel as Illyana and Frost engaged in a ferocious duel. Each of her strikes was precise, and calculated, but Frost was learning. His movements began to mimic hers, his adaptability forcing her onto the defensive.

Kara standing in a corner of the battlefield with the still KO Blade, noticed the shift. Her lips curved into an intrigued smile as she watched, eager to see how Illyana would counter.

Initially, the fight had been one-sided, but Frost, the self-styled La Magra, possessed an unnatural resilience. Wounds knitted themselves shut before her eyes, defying the laws of biology. Realizing brute force wouldn't suffice, Frost switched tactics. He exploited Sarah's offensive maneuvers, moving with inhuman agility. He dodged her right hook like a phantom and lunged at her midsection, slashing at her three times with his razor-sharp nails. Illyana reacted instinctively, delivering a brutal knee strike as he closed the distance.

Both combatants stumbled back, catching their breath. Frost's attack had left distinct gouges on her battle suit, while her knee left a blooming bruise on his face. But within seconds, the impossible happened – both injuries vanished. Did her armor… heal?

Ignoring his momentary confusion, Illyana unleashed a powered-up Shadow Arrow mixed with Corrosion from her left hand. Puncturing a new hole in his chest, Frost shrieked, the effect of 'Corrosion' finally messing up his accelerated healing. Illyana was ready, taking advantage of the opportunity she started to crank the power of her Corrosion, aiming to finish him off. But before the next Shadow Arrow could reach its full intensity, Frost in front of her exploded into a blood mist with a loud "bang" and vanished.

"Killed? Huh?! No!" She didn't "see" it so much as sense it, she wasn't fast enough, to turn around, but as Frost reappeared behind her she also turned into a blood mist, to materialize behind him. Reacting with lightning speed, Illyana landed a brutal hammer strike on Frost, sending him flying across the ruins. She had unconsciously morphed MorningStar into a hammer. Illyana grinned and the MorningStar morphed back into a katana.

"Freaking cool weapon!"

Frost smirked as he lunged at Illyana, his fist aimed for a devastating blow. Unfazed, Sarah reacted with lightning speed. She effortlessly deflected his attacking fist flat part of the ballet. Before he could react, she delivered a kick that targeted his kidney. The impact sent a jolt of pain through Frost, but he quickly shook it off with a grin, however, it was enough time for Illyana to quickly distance herself from Frost. Close combat with this brute wasn't going to work, she knew that. Besides he was getting better and better.

Frost smiled, "Is that all you've got? And you want to challenge me, La Magra?"

Ignored him and got in a sword stance, anticipating Frost's growing confidence. As he approached her for the next attack, a rapid exchange followed, then she feigned an opening, she baited him into overextending. As his blade swung wide, she slipped inside his guard. MorningStar flashed again, cleaving him clean in two.

But the blood magic stitched him together once more. This time, however, dark crimson energy lines erupted from Illyana's outstretched hand. The lines coiled around Frost's regenerating form, binding him.

"What is this?" Frost snarled, struggling against the glowing tendrils.

Illyana's grin widened. "Something you can't regenerate from."

The energy threads tightened, siphoning his blood and vitality. His La Magra form withered, his once-powerful body dissolving like acid eating through flesh.

"My blood! It's being drained!" Frost gasped, his voice growing weaker as his struggles became futile.

Illyana twisted her wrist, and the glowing strands constricted further, reducing Frost to a skeletal husk. With one final motion, she stomped his skull into dust, the sound echoing like a grim exclamation point. Her satisfaction was palpable, but her thoughts were elsewhere—My queen will be so pleased. I wonder if I can persuade her to reward me in other ways.

Illyana turned to Kara and Blade, who had just regained consciousness, her voice dripping with cold amusement. "Thanks for the entertainment, La Magra."

"She's strong. Too strong," Blade muttered, watching helplessly.

"That... is the vampire you mentioned?" Blade asked, his tone flat but laced with intrigue.

"Yes," Kara confirmed with a nod.

"What's she doing here? And why drain Frost dry?"

"To grow stronger," Kara replied simply.

"To what aim?" Blade pressed his brow furrowing.

This time it was Illyana who answered, striding toward them with deliberate steps. "My queen wants me to lead the so-called good vampires. Well, the ones who respect the rules, anyway."

"Your queen?" Blade questioned, dropping into a combat-ready stance. "Who the hell are you and your queen?"

"Relax, Blade. Who helped you in the first place? You'd be dead by now if not for me," Kara interjected, her tone calm but firm. "Whistler told me you'd gone after Frost. I followed the trail here. Oh, and don't worry—his situation's been handled."

"Handled how?" Blade asked, reaching for his sword, only to find himself frozen by Kara's telekinetic grip.

"He won't be a vampire anymore. I cured him," Kara said evenly, releasing him from her hold.

Blade's eyes widened in disbelief—such a thing was unheard of. Ignoring his reaction, Illyana knelt before Kara, offering her MorningStar. "It's done, my queen."

Kara sighed, exasperated. "Illyana, are you an idiot? Now Blade's going to think I'm the vampire queen." She pinched the bridge of her nose. "Anyway, keep the weapon for now, at least until I make you something more useful."

Blade's expression darkened in confusion and surprise. "Why are you in league with... this vampire?"

"Isn't it similar to you and Whistler?" Kara deadpanned. "She's my subordinate. Besides, I'm much, much stronger than her."

"Yes, she is! And so sexy!" Illyana chimed in enthusiastically.

Kara's eye twitched. "Will you freaking stop that, idiot! Why do you always choose the weirdest moments to be inappropriate?"

"Sorry, my queen," Illyana replied with mock innocence. "But when is a good moment to be inappropriate?"

Blade stood there, stunned by the absurdity of their exchange. The fuck? was all that crossed his mind.

"Remember, we're allies, Blade," Kara said, ignoring his incredulity. "Oh, and your mother? She's hiding somewhere in the basement. Whatever you do next, it's up to you. I've got other things to handle. See you around."

Without looking back, Kara strode out of the Eternal Night Palace, her presence commanding. Illyana followed obediently, though she couldn't resist casting a lingering smirk at Blade.

Blade huffed but held his tongue as Kara disappeared into the shadows, leaving him to process the chaos she'd just unleashed.

Moments later, the roar of rotor blades filled the air as a S.H.I.E.L.D. helicopter descended.

"Captain, we've arrived," a voice came over the comm.

"Everyone, stay alert," John commanded, his sharp gaze scanning the palace ruins.

Kara looked up briefly from her perch. "S.H.I.E.L.D., huh?" she muttered to herself before leaping gracefully out of sight.

The S.H.I.E.L.D. team landed cautiously, John stepping out first. His keen eyesight caught Blade emerging from the palace entrance, accompanied by a woman.

John opened the helicopter's door and leaped to the ground, walking directly toward Blade. "Blade," he called, his tone even.

Blade's hand reflexively tightened around his sword's hilt. The S.H.I.E.L.D. insignia on John's uniform did little to ease his distrust. "What's this about?"

"John, S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. I'd like to have a word," John said, his voice steady.

Blade's jaw tightened. "You S.H.I.E.L.D. types are the reason vampires have been running rampant. I've got nothing to say to you."

"We're trying to change that," John began, stepping closer. "To face these threats, compromises have to be made, but—"

Blade cut him off, his tone cold. "Another powerful vampire just made herself known. That's all you need to worry about. Frost is dead. I'm done here." Without waiting for a reply, Blade turned and walked away, his coat billowing behind him.

John called out after him. "The woman who left earlier—friend or foe?"

Blade didn't break stride but answered. "To me friendly. If you find her, ask her yourself. She knows more than most." And with that, he disappeared into the shadows. His mother, not his concern.